


Zaldrizo

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: Blood of the Dragon [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alayne is not, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark!Jon, Dracula Influence/References, F/M, Other magical/supernatural creatures, Reincarnation, Sansa is a telepath, Suicide, Targaryens are Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Littlefinger's plan to steal Sansa away from her husband King Jaehaerys backfires when he fails to predict her reaction to a false message.628 years later Jon Snow meets Alayne Stone...





	1. All is Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts), [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts), [Janina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/gifts).



> For Amymel86: all I wanted to do was write you a 'Jon Snow as a sexy librarian who is also secretly a vampire' fic, but instead it turned into this. I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> For Vivilove: because great minds think alike ;)
> 
> For Janina: as far as I know you introduced the vampirism & reincarnation trope into the Jonsa fandom, so the premise of this fic probably never would have occurred to me without your wonderful 'Unable Are the Loved to Die'
> 
>  
> 
> This story is influenced by Bram Stoker's Dracula (the movie more so than the novel), The Southern Vampire Mysteries (better known as the HBO series True Blood) and The Vampire Diaries.
> 
> The canon era parts are a mix between show verse and book verse.
> 
> Important information to understand the first chapter: Sansa didn't leave King's Landing, so she doesn't have the same history with Littlefinger as she does in canon.

_**Queen Sansa of Houses Stark and Targaryen - 306 AC** _

She'd left her ladies in waiting and the other noble women of the court in the Sept of Maegor's Holdfast. She had not failed to do her duty as Queen the way Cersei Lannister had all those years ago during the Battle of the Blackwater. Once again King's Landing was under siege and it fell to her to hold the city as Jon and Daenerys were leading the defence from dragonback.

The threat had come in an unexpected alliance between Dorne and the Stormlands. It was never supposed to happen like this. Aegon was to become King with Arianne Martell as his Queen. Jon and Sansa were meant to return to Winterfell, their own marriage tying the North, the Riverlands and the Vale to the Iron Throne.

Then Aegon had perished along with his dragon Rhaegal beyond the Wall. When the Night's King had been defeated, Viserys had insisted he should be King, since Jon's blood was not pure enough. He'd found little support though. Jon was the hero who'd brought back the dawn. He was the one who'd managed to tame Viserion where his namesake had failed.

He'd tried to turn Daenerys against Jon, almost succeeding in tricking her into a marriage. Instead Viserys had ended up silvered in a cell and Jon had taken Daenerys as his second wife to assert their unity to the realm. Sansa was grateful Jon had been raised as a Stark and not as a Targaryen as it meant he was adamant his marriage to his aunt was to be only a marriage in name and nothing more. 

Even if she weren't able to read Jon's mind thanks to their blood bond, she would trust him, but she didn't know how Daenerys truly felt about the arrangement. Her mind was completely closed off from Sansa, as Jon's had been when they were children. She'd seen in the thoughts and dreams of many men and women among the court that she'd taken lovers though.

Jon was crowned and given a more traditional Targaryen name befitting the ruler on the Iron Throne and most of the Seven Kingdoms had sworn their allegiance to him. 

As Sansa had anticipated though, the Dornishmen had refused to accept Jaehaerys Targaryen as their King, unable to forgive him for the fate of their Princess Elia Martell and his marriage to Sansa. They'd declared their independence, but no one had expected them to try to overthrow the Targaryens.

The Stormlanders had reluctantly acknowledged Jon as their King, but had now shown their true colours. They'd made it clear they would never follow another Targaryen monarch. A faction had risen that was trying to put an unwilling and unwitting Shireen Baratheon on the Throne. The desperation and fear she'd felt in the girl's mind were heartwrenching, but she hadn't been able to help her.

The Martells still held Myrcella hostage, preventing Tyrion Lannister, the newly installed Lord Paramount of the Westerlands from actively supporting the Iron Throne. The armies of the Reach had been decimated during the second Targaryen Conquest. The North and the Riverlands were still in ruins.

They'd sent Aemon North to the safety of Winterfell, to stay with Bran and Arya and Rickon. She bit her lip at the memory of his indigo eyes filling with tears, his pouty little lips and chubby chin quivering. He didn't understand why Mama and Papa were sending him away.

She'd offered him her wrist to comfort him, even though the bloodlust was much weaker in him than it was in Jon and Daenerys. She wiped away the tears at the memory of his confusion, repeating to herself that he was safe and trying to focus on the present.

Reinforcements from the Vale were due to arrive soon, but their situation was dire. Still, most of the men at their gates were merely following orders. Ordering Drogon and Viserion to burn them alive was to be a last resort they would only turn to in case all else failed.

She found herself in the Godswood now, after having fled the place of worship of the Seven she no longer followed, praying to the Gods of her Father and her husband. She'd led the ladies of the court in prayer and song, but in the end their panic and agitation had proven to be too much to her.

She'd left them all in the Sept, insisting she needed to pray to the Old Gods as well. She'd managed to calm herself down, away from the tangle of thoughts and emotions. Brienne was her only companion here and she was pleasantly soothing, single-mindedly focused on her task as she was. Sansa had always liked her, since the discrepancy between her very clear thoughts and her words was nearly non-existent.

She could feel her Lady Knight tense up when she spotted a figure approaching. She recognized the man through Brienne's eyes. She pushed herself to her feet, smoothing out her skirts. "Lord Baelish," she acknowledged him, without turning around.

She smirked to herself as she sensed his surprise at being recognized. "Your Grace," he greeted her. She could tell he was nervous about something. She could feel him bracing himself to deliver an unpleasant message.  _"She'll refuse to believe me,"_ she heard him think,  _"but I have the proof."_

She turned to face him, keeping her face in a neutral expression. "Your Grace," he repeated, "I have most grievous news."

Sansa allowed a slight frown to appear on her face, trying to decipher what was in his mind. Unfortunately Baelish was one of the quieter ones. She could hear his thoughts just fine, but for such a clever man, they were disappointingly simple.

She had detected the lust there, but that was something she'd seen in so many men since her twelfth nameday it had stopped fazing her a long time ago. Besides, he remembered her mother fondly and she hadn't been able to catch him lying to her.

"Pray tell me, my lord. Are we losing the battle?"

He hesitated, both mentally and physically. "The odds are against us, I'm afraid, my Queen..."

She saw Jon's face in his mind then and he couldn't hide his dislike from her, but before she could analyze it further, he was focusing on her again and his mind was filled with pity, just tinged with some sort of anxious thrill. "The King has fallen, Your Grace."

The word fell from her lips automatically. "Impossible."

She knew for a fact that it was not. Aegon had died after all. Jon was stronger and faster than anyone else out there and he healed more quickly. She felt the small puncture wounds on the inside of her thigh as she adjusted her stance. She'd made him drink more than he usually did.

Baelish' mind was strangely focused on something in his left pocket. She hoped he would bring it up soon, so she wouldn't have to ask. Only a select few were aware of her abilities and she didn't wish to change that. To her relief he reached into said pocket and pulled out a small black velvet pouch. He offered it to her in silence.

She accepted it, looking at herself through his eyes. He was studying her face intently, but she appeared oddly calm.  _"Once she sees it..."_

There was determination in his mind, certainty. She opened the pouch and shook its content into her left palm. She saw something gold flicker in the faint sunlight. She turned the object around and recognized it immediately. Her body locked down.

In her hand was a ring set with a large black stone, red veins running over its surface. Jon had worn the bloodstone his entire life, hanging from a chain around his neck, hidden under his tunic most of the time when they'd been back in Winterfell. He had only been able to wear it openly since Aegon had returned to Westeros with his Aunt and Uncle.

He would never take it off. He needed it to protect himself from the sunlight. He couldn't take it off, he'd be weak, more vulnerable than any ordinary human. Her heart had sunk down into her stomach, filling her body with an oddly painful buzz that made her want to scream and pull at her hair.

 _He's telling the truth, there's no other explanation._ She couldn't breathe. Baelish' lips were moving, but she couldn't hear him. His voice seemed to come from a place far away and didn't sound like his own at all. She tried to focus on his thoughts instead. 

_"All is lost. Safety. Now. You need to get out of here. Come with me, trust me."_

She only realized she was crying when her vision became so blurred she couldn't see anymore. Her feet started carrying her away from him and Brienne. She didn't look where she was going. She should be able to feel Jon if she searched for him. He couldn't be that far away.

She couldn't hear the dragons. She couldn't sense Jon.  _No. No. No._ She'd been too distracted by her ladies to notice his distress. How was that even possible? _I should have felt it._

After what might have been five minutes or half an hour, a full hour perhaps, she looked up to see that her feet had carried her to the cliffs overlooking the Blackwater. Her thoughts went to her little boy.  _Arya will keep him safe._

She heard Baelish' mental voice again:  _"All is lost."_ He'd said he could get her out.  _No._ Despite everything, there was something that told her she couldn't trust the man completely.  _But he told you the truth._ Jon's ring was cutting into the flesh of her palm with how tightly she was clenching it in her fist.

It didn't matter. The city was lost. Jon was gone. She wouldn't wait for them to drag her away. She wouldn't wait for them to come and rape her and beat her body until it was broken. She clutched the ring to her chest as the salty sea wind played with her hair. 

 _You can't leave me, Jon, you can't!_ She still couldn't sense him. She closed her eyes and took a couple of steps back.  _I love you, Jon._ She ran forward without allowing herself another thought and flung herself off the cliff.


	2. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alayne had never expected to return North, but now she has...

_**Alayne Stone - 934 AC** _

Alayne had always dreamed of going South and when she finally had, she'd expected never to return North again. From the age of nine she'd been collecting tabloid pictures of the rich and famous in King's Landing. Two months before her eighteenth birthday, she'd finally arrived in the capital, ready to start a modelling career.

At first she'd been intoxicated by the glamour of it all. She'd found an agent surprisingly quickly and Mr. Baelish secured enough jobs for her to pay for all the partying that came with the lifestyle. Of course, he wouldn't call it that, he'd say it was networking, an essential part of doing good business.

The alcohol flowed freely, Poppy Milks and Shade of the Evening were passed around openly and semi-public blowjobs were so common Alayne had been the only person to be shocked by it when she'd first witnessed one in Club Ros.

Of course, sex was more than a form of entertainment in the capital. It was a weapon, a means of advancement. She couldn't stomach the idea of ever needing to resort to it, but Mr. Baelish had subtly pointed out it was the way this world worked. 

The current it-girl, Margaery Tyrell didn't even bother to conceal the fact that she'd slept her way to the top. But Alayne had come to King's Landing as a virgin and she wasn't prepared to change that simply to land an important photoshoot or to receive an invitation for the next big event.

Then Joffrey Baratheon, heir to the largest business empire in Westeros had come into her life. Alayne had been in love and she'd believed all her dreams were coming true, but he'd trampled all over her heart. Mere hours after Joffrey had tried to pressure her into having sex with him and she'd refused him, she'd caught him bending the Rose of Highgarden over the dinner table of his condo.

Margaery had had the gall to smirk at her. She'd run right back to her apartment, where Mr. Baelish was waiting for her. She'd ended up crying and confessing all that had happened and Baelish had pretended to comfort her, and she'd let him, until he'd shoved his tongue down her throat. He had come back to apologize the next day. Alayne had been inclined to do so, mentally cursing herself for having allowed herself to become so dependent on him.

Mr. Baelish had left with one last remark: " _I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday. This is an opportunity, Alayne. It would make for a great stunt. There are some specialized websites these days. I'll send you a couple of links."_

When Alayne had sunk down on the sofa with her laptop half an hour later, she'd found out that the links he'd sent her directed her to auction websites that only dealt in one specific commodity. Baelish was encouraging her to sell her virginity to the highest bidder. 

That had been the last straw. Alayne had packed all of her belongings and fled the capital, heading for Oldtown. She'd decided she wanted to do something substantial with her life after the empty glamour of King's Landing. She'd always liked the literary analysis classes in secondary school, so she decided to start studying Westerosi literature.

Her love life had continued to be a disaster, but she managed to finish her masters' degree in record time, all the while still taking some modelling gigs to pay her way through university.

She'd considered going to Dorne or the Summer Isles after that or crossing the Narrow Sea to Essos to take a year off, but then the offer from Hardhome University had come and she'd realized it was an opportunity she couldn't pass up. After all, not many people were granted scholarships to start a PhD on the exact subject they'd always been most excited about.

Hardhome was cold and dull and soon it would only have a meagre six hours of sunlight a day. She'd been told that as soon as winter arrived every surface would be covered with eight inches of permanent snow for months, but she didn't mind, not truly.

It had its perks. Once the isolation would have bothered her, but now the loneliness comforted her. Nothing unexpected would ever happen here. No one knew about her past or was even remotely interested in the far South. Her name wouldn't ring any bells here.

The university itself was not comparable to KLU or Oldtown, but the literature department had the most extensive library section on the Targaryen Dynasty Era in the entire continent and that was exactly what she needed. She'd be spending many an hour in that library, since most of the books she'd need for her research were reference works. 

She'd had a first meeting with Professor Tarly who'd be overseeing her dissertation today. The professor turned out to be an extremely fat man in his late fifties who kept wiping at his sweaty brow with a tiny handkerchief, but he seemed a genuinely kind man who was extremely passionate about the subject matter they'd discussed.

The first couple of semesters she'd be focusing on her research, but Professor Tarly had suggested she take a couple of courses in the teacher training department as well, since she'd be expected to teach some of his classes at a later point.

Most of her expenses, including the small apartment she'd been assigned, would be covered by the Night's Watch Foundation. She'd never heard of it before, hadn't encountered anyone else who'd received a scholarship from them, but she was grateful for the chance she was given.

She'd still need money for food and clothes though, so she'd have to find a part-time job as well. Alayne sighed as she settled under the heavy blankets. Tomorrow she'd visit the library for the first time. She'd already reserved four or five books to look over.

She dreamt an old dream that night. She found herself in a large space. It didn't seem to have any walls or a ceiling, and when she looked down, she couldn't see a floor. All around her was a bright light made solid in the form of softly floating clouds. A liquid warmth swirled through the air spreading joy and comfort. It was a pure world.  _I don't belong here._

That's when she noticed the others. They didn't really look like people anymore, they were all emanating the same warm light, singing in unearthly voices. Their faces all had the same expression and every single one looked eerily similar to the next. She knew she'd come here to join them. 

Tentatively she opened her mouth to start singing along, but she could never find the right words or keep up with the melody. It was a harmony, but she couldn't fit in.  _I don't want to be here. I need..._ She didn't know what exactly she needed, but she knew something or someone was missing.

 _"Just let go,"_ a thousand voices whispered as one.  _"The pain will go away if you release your desires. You need only join the collective to move on."_

 _No,_ she wanted to scream,  _I'm not supposed to be here. I belong with..._ If only she could remember. It went on like that for days, perhaps even months or years. It might have been only a few hours, she couldn't tell. Eventually the light grew tired of her reluctance to be absorbed into the harmony and she was cast out.

She was thrown through a door in the floor that hadn't been there before. She was falling through light and darkness in silence and witnessed a hundred worlds she forgot as soon as she'd layed eyes on them. She kept falling until she finally hit the ground and she could breathe again.

She'd landed on bright green moss and red leaves and she rolled onto her stomach to kiss the ground as tears of joy spilled from her eyes. She pushed herself to her feet and saw that she was not alone. Twenty feet away from her, a man was kneeling in front of a white tree with a bloody face carved into its bark. His hand was on the crimson sap tears running from the tree's eyes as he whispered a woman's name.

She started running to him and opened her mouth. She couldn't remember his name.  _It doesn't matter,_ she told herself,  _when he hears me, he'll turn around and I'll see his face and all will be well._ Her mouth was unable to form any words, no sound would come out of her throat. 

She'd been running for hours but she never came any closer. She was growing tired and desperate.  _Maybe he'll get up and see me,_ she told herself, but she knew he wouldn't. He hadn't moved an inch since she'd first spotted him. 

Alayne woke up with a gasp, tears streaming down her face as she was being crushed by the pain of knowing she'd lost something she couldn't remember. That nagging feeling of having forgotten something important would keep her occupied all day, even if the memory of the dream would slip from her grasp like water she was trying to cup in her hands. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we'll be meeting Jon Snow in both 306 and 934...


	3. Fire and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finds out what has happened... Be prepared for a raging and vengeful Jon giving in to his dragon side...

_**Queen Daenerys Targaryen - 306 AC** _

Daenerys lighthly leapt off Drogon's back as he hovered above the drawbridge to Maegor's Holdfast. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she saw Brienne, Sansa's personal guard, approach her. She frowned. The Lady Knight never left the other Queen's side, except when she was with Jon. Had he made it back somehow? She didn't know what had happened to him after Viserion had been hit.

She focused on the other woman's face, which was contorted in pain. She waited for Brienne to close the distance between them and fall to one knee in front of her. "Your Grace," she whispered, inclining her head.

Daenerys felt her body tense up as her gums started throbbing painfully.  _The fight is over,_ she tried to tell herself. "What happened?"

Brienne didn't meet her eyes. "I failed."

"What? How?" she asked, blinking slowly, dreading the answer.

"I should have gone after her, instead of trying to deal with him first," she said, shaking her head. She extended her hand and Daenerys automatically held out her own, looking at the object that was dropped in it. It was Jon's ring.  _Gods, please, say it isn't true._

"She was still holding it. They brought her body to the Sept."

***

An hour later Jon came stumbling into her apartments, the smell of blood and dirt heavy in the air. She darted across the room in a second, gripping his arms. "Jon! Are you hurt? What happened?"

He shook his head, shrugging her off. "I'm fine. I've fed."

She could tell by the grim look on his face that he'd needed to kill to regain his strength. She slid the ring around his finger and he frowned at it. "How," he started, but then gripped her by the shoulders. "It was Viserys, Dany. He overpowered me, caught me by surprise and took my ring."

That meant Viserys was in on Littlefinger's scheme. She felt the anger starting to boil in her veins again.  _I should have killed him a long time ago._ He was of their blood though and she hadn't wanted to have another dragon killed by their own kind. Jon's fingers were digging into her flesh and she had to repress the urge to push him away.

"Where is Sansa?" he asked her, dark eyes boring into hers, "I couldn't find her in our chambers."

She hesitated a heartbeat too long.

"Dany," he growled at her and she instinctively hissed back. He sighed. "I lost the connection, I was weakened too much, but I still can't find her."

She swallowed. "I- she's in the Sept."

He narrowed his eyes. "No, she's not."

She pursed her lips and licked them, her mouth going dry. "She is, Jon. There's a reason you can't feel her anymore. She-"

His confused frown shifted into a horrified look before his eyes went hard. "No!"

"Jon, wait!"

With another growl he was out of the room, so she hurried after him.

When she arrived in the Sept, he was already on his knees. They'd laid her down in front of the altar of the Mother. His hands were trembling as he reached for Sansa's face. She couldn't watch, so she turned away from them.  _What are all these people doing here?_

"Leave us," she commanded and the people gathered there fled out, only the High Septon lingering at the door.  _Fool,_ she thought, but decided to ignore him for now. Jon was begging in a soft and broken whisper. "I'm here now, Sansa, everything will be fine. Just wake up, my love, you need to wake up."

He went on like that for a while. She didn't want to be the one to say this, but it needed to be done. She turned around. "She's not waking up, Jon."

Instead of responding he kept addressing Sansa. "I'm going to take you home now, my love," he promised her. "We'll see Aemon again and I'll dance with you in the Great Hall and bring you flowers from the glass gardens. I'll make love to you in the hot springs and give you a dozen more babes."

"Jon! She's not breathing. Her heart isn't beating."

His only reaction was a sharp intake of breath and his shoulders tensing up. And then he chuckled. "You're being silly, Sansa. I know you're tired, so am I. Do you want me to carry you to bed? All the servants will whisper about their King's improper behaviour!"

His voice broke on the last word. "You can't leave me, Sansa, you can't! I never wanted this Throne! The only reason I'm even fighting this fucking war is to keep you safe!"

The High Septon cleared his throat. "We need to start preparations for the funeral, Your Grace."

That caught Jon's attention. He was on his feet and facing the High Septon in a second. "What funeral?"

The man opened his mouth, no sound coming out. "There will be no funeral," Jon informed him. "I'm going to take her home to Winterfell, so she can be buried in the crypts where she belongs."

Jon's body was trembling, reeking of his anger, but the High Septon seemed oblivious. "Your Grace! This is unheard of. It is customary for members of the royal family to be buried in the Great Sept of Baelor. The Queen was raised in the Light of the Seven!"

Daenerys took a step in their direction, trying to keep her voice pleasant but firm: "Thank you, Your Holiness, that will be all." 

Jon spat out: "Fuck the Seven!"

The High Septon gasped. She tried to draw Jon's attention away from the man by calling his name. He turned to face her, fangs out and a purple gleam in his dark eyes. _They woke the dragon._

Before she could say anything else, the statue of the Father was crumbling to the floor. She watched as one by one the effigies of the Seven were torn down and demolished. Jon was a blur, moving so fast even she could barely see him. She stood by immobile, knowing better than to disturb him in his fury.

The High Septon however didn't share her patience or her presence of mind. He cried out: "This is sacrilege!"

The only statue that was left was that of the Stranger and Jon materialized in front of it. Slowly, he stalked toward the other man, irises completely black now, the whites of his eyes glowing purple. As his lips curled away from his teeth in a feral grin, saliva dripping from his fangs, he snarled. Finally she could smell fear on the man.

"No," Jon answered him, voice calm and icy. "This is sacrilege."

The High Septon collapsed and revealed Jon standing there panting, the man's windpipe in his trembling fist, blood trickling down his arm. He caught sight of Daenerys and her body reacted of its own volition, crouching into a defensive position as her fangs popped out. The last thing she saw was his face a mere inch from hers before everything went black.

***

Daenerys woke up slowly, her head in a haze and a throbbing pain in her neck. She rubbed it to soothe the ache.  _The bastard snapped my neck!_ She looked around the Sept, wondering why no one had come to find her. The High Septon's body was exactly where Jon had left it, but Sansa was gone.

She groaned, flexing her neck and jumping to her feet. She needed to find him. Fortunately the first person she met was able to tell her the King had gone to the Dragonpit. She wondered whether that meant he'd decided to fly North immediately. Somehow she couldn't imagine his rage had faded that quickly.

She could hear from afar that her children were in a frenzy, roaring and shrieking, occasionally sending a pillar of flames and smoke into the air. When she entered the Dragonpit, Jon was kneeling over a body. Drogon and Viserion were on the other side of the pit, curiously tilting their heads and hissing. She could smell fire and burning flesh.

Jon stepped away to kneel next to a chair to the far right of the body in the middle of the pit. There was someone sitting in the chair and he gently took her hand. She realized in shock that it was Sansa. Jon was still talking to her. Suddenly he yelled out: "Dracarys!"

The dragons obeyed immediately. To her horror the body she'd assumed to be a corpse had started to stir and the person was now screaming. As soon as most of the flames had died down, Jon was kneeling over the body again, biting his wrist and forcing it into the person's mouth.

"What are you doing, Jon?"

He answered her calmly. "I'm feeding him my blood. I don't want him to die just yet."

She turned to the body again and saw the features of Petyr Baelish reappearing from the blackened molten flesh.  _So he knows._ "Stop it, Jon! This isn't you!"

He pushed himself to his feet and met her eyes. His were black and empty. "There's not much left of me anyway," he declared in a flat voice. "I'm going to burn him again and again and again, until he might begin to fathom the pain he's inflicted upon me."

She watched as he repeated the gruesome ritual. Drogon hesitated when she ordered him to stop, but Viserion was too caught up in Jon's rage to even notice her, so eventually his brother joined in again as well. 

She caught his arm as he was moving back to the chair. "Jon, this is not going to bring her back!"

He blinked once and his knees buckled. She kneeled until her eyes were level with his. He collapsed into her, his body convulsing as he started crying. "It's true, isn't it?" he sobbed. "She's not coming back..."

She pulled back to look at his face and for some reason seeing him like this, weeping like a child, frightened her more than witnessing his madness. She'd never seen him cry before. Gently she cradled his head, trying to comfort him in silence.

Eventually she whispered: "When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east."

Jon's answer came quickly. "Then I'll make it."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised we'd meet Jon in 934 in this chapter as well, but I feel like this was intense enough, so I'll be saving that for the next one...


	4. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark worries about his nephew's future.
> 
> Alayne Stone meets a cute librarian.

_**Lord Eddard Stark - 289 AC**  
_

Eddard sighed as he put the letter down on the desk. Any other day he might have been able to brush off the old maester's concerns, but today of all days it proved to be impossible. He'd told himself over and over that there was still time. The boy was only six. With a bit of luck, he could put it off for another eight years. Old Aemon Targaryen insisted it would be unwise though. He said the boy would need to know long before the cravings began. 

They usually started around the age of twelve, around the time one started the transition from childhood into adulthood.  _The bloodlust and the rage are hard to control at first. If he were to find out the truth at such a time, it would only add to his confusion._ The man was right of course, but that hardly made it easier. If only he could share this burden, but it was too dangerous. He wished he could keep the boy in the dark as well, to protect him, to save him more heartbreak.

Jon looked so much like her, some days it was too painful to look at him, but at the same time it had given him hope. He'd prayed it meant he was normal, like his mother, but it had been proven beyond any doubt by now; he was one of them. It didn't matter, he was still Lya's boy and he would die before even considering breaking his promise, but it did complicate matters in ways he couldn't fathom yet.

He'd always known the risks of keeping a secret such as this, but was he putting his own children in danger by allowing her child to stay here?  _The bloodlust and the rage..._ Maester Aemon had offered to take him in as his personal cupbearer so he could watch over him and guide him.  _The Wall is no place for a child._ Surely it would be better for him to pretend for a couple more years. Still, Eddard would have to leave Winterfell soon. Robert had called his banners to put down Balon Greyjoy's rebellion. What would happen if he did not return?

He rubbed his temples. Catelyn would not allow the boy to stay in Winterfell and perhaps that would be for the best. Without anyone around to explain, he might become a threat to-  _No, Jon is a sweet child. He would never hurt his brother or sisters._ He adored Robb and was more patient with Sansa than his own son. He smiled as he remembered how flustered Jon had appeared when when he'd caught him holding a doll Sansa had shoved into his hands during one of the games she'd invented. His solemn little face had lit up when Eddard had lifted Arya out of her crib to show her to the older children.

 _Oh Lya, she already looks so much like you._ He tried not to wonder what might happen if others who'd known Lyanna noticed the resemblance between Jon and Arya as well. He shook his head. Winterfell was safe. No one cared about the North in the Southron court. He pushed himself to his feet. He'd go to the Godswood first to find some peace of mind and then he'd bring the flowers to the crypt. 

He paused in the hallway when he heard a noise coming from the nursery. Recognizing Sansa's voice, he pushed the door open. His daughter was stretched out on her toes leaning over her little sister's crib, wagging her finger at the babe. "I am very cross with you! Mama said you didn't hurt her, but I know it was a lie!"

"Sansa!" he called out softly, lowering himself to his knees.

"Papa!"

She came bounding to him, but stopped in her tracks to dip into a low curtsey before running into his open arms. "What are you doing in here?"

She pulled away, looking at her feet and plucking at her skirts. "Arya's been a very bad girl, Papa. Mama said she didn't hurt her, but I heard her screaming!"

He stifled a chuckle. "Bringing a child into the world is a painful business, sweet one, but your sister's not to blame."

She nodded seriously. "I am happy to have a sister, but Robb is sad. Jon is happy too, because she looks like him."

 _Indeed she does._ He decided to focus on Sansa's words to distract him from his worries. "Did they tell you that?"

"Jon did," she answered, "but Robb didn't know I was listening."

 "And why is Robb sad?" he wondered.

She didn't hesitate. "He wanted to have a real brother this time."

 _A real brother._ He sighed. That was Catelyn talking. He knew children could be callous, but Robb and Jon were thick as thieves. "Robb told Jon he wanted a real brother?" he asked incredulously.

"No, Papa," she giggled, "he was just talking to himself."

He frowned at her. "Talking to himself?"

She nodded again, big blue eyes wide. "People talk to themselves all the time. Like you, Papa."

Suddenly she put a hand on his cheek. "If looking at Jon makes you sad, why don't you just send him away?"

He froze. _Who told you that?_

She blinked at him, confusion written all over her face and answered his unspoken question. "You did, Papa, when I was in the hallway."

 _No. It can't be true! Those are just stories._ "Do you want me to send Jon away?"

She bit her lip, twirling from side to side. "No," she said slowly. "He's sweet and quiet, but he makes Mama sad too."

That was it. She must have overheard Cat talking to someone. He studied her little face, trying to figure out how to make her forget about this, when she suddenly asked: "Why can't Jon live with Aunt Lyanna?"

His mouth fell open. He should ignore her. The last thing he should do was encourage these notions, wherever she might have gotten them from, but instead he heard his own voice forming the words: "Why would Jon live with Aunt Lyanna?"

"Because she's his Lady Mother," Sansa answered in a heartbeat, frowning at him. 

This time he did ask it out loud: "Who told you that?"

He put his hands on her arms as she tried to pull away from him. "You did, Papa!" she objected, lips and chin trembling.

"Hush, sweet one," he tried to soothe her, "I'm not cross with you. You just startled me, that's all."

She buried her face in his neck, nodding. Gently he pushed her away to look her in the eyes. "Can you promise me something, Sansa?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Never tell anyone what you just told me, about Jon or about you hearing people talk to themselves."

She tilted her head. "Like a secret?"

"Like a secret," he agreed.

"I promise," she said gravely and the look on her face almost made him smile.

"Now off with you!"

She kissed him on the cheek and darted away. When she was at the door, a thought occurred to him. "Sansa, do you ever hear Jon talk to himself?"

She stopped to face him. "No, Papa," she told him, rolling her eyes, "I told you he was quiet."

With another curtsey she was out of the room.  _I wish I could forget so easily._

 

* * *

 

_**Alayne Stone - 934 AC** _

The first red rays of sunlight were barely visible over the western horizon when Alayne arrived at the Mormont building. She walked in, leaving her coat and bag in one of the lockers to the right of the entrance hall of the building. The library was located in the East Wing. It was a nice mix between clean, almost clinically simple lines and rustic dark woods. There weren't any windows, but the place was well-lit and the light didn't seem too harsh or unnatural.

The front desk was manned by an older woman with a stern look and rectangular glasses, who directed her to the reference desk by the reading room in the back.

At the desk Alayne was met by a head of dark unruly curls bent over something she couldn't see from where she was standing. Before she could open her mouth to announce her presence, the man held up a large hand with a heavy golden ring and said: "Just a minute."

His low, rough voice sent a pleasant tingle down her spine. He looked up, turning to his computer. His eyes were hidden by the blue screen light reflecting off his tortoise shell glasses. She could still see his pale, smooth skin, full lips framed by a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt.  _How very hipster,_ she couldn't help thinking. 

He frowned at the screen. "How can I help you, Miss... ?"

"Stone," she answered, clearing her throat. "Alayne Stone."

He jerked his chin up, finally looking at her face, lips slightly parted as he sucked in a sharp breath. His deep grey eyes met hers and she couldn't look away. A strange sense of foreboding or deja-vu or something else she couldn't describe rippled its way down her stomach, as he held her gaze with an intense stare. It couldn't have lasted longer than a few seconds, but it felt as if a lifetime had passed. 

Then he blinked slowly, pursing his lips, and the moment was gone. He offered her a small smile that didn't chase the frown from his face. "Miss Stone," he acknowledged her.

She shook her head. "Um, yes, there are supposed to be some books ready for me here?"

"Let me check," he told her, entering what must be her name into the computer. "Ah, I see. Some interesting titles there."

He rose to his feet, turning to the shelves behind him, bending over.  _Nice butt._ Having found her books, he squatted to pick them up. His shoulders moved nicely under his shirt and she felt a sudden urge to touch him. She shook her head.  _Gods, what is wrong with you?_ She averted her eyes, biting her lip.

"Do you have your card?"

He was back at the desk, piling her books up in front of her, looking at her expectantly. "Um, what?"

"Your university card?"

"Oh, yes, of course," she mumbled, handing him the card. She thought the way the corner of his mouth curled up as he took it and turned back to his computer was almost smug.

"So, you're working with Professor Tarly, right?"

"I am."

"Lucky you, he's one of the best," he said, offering her that half-smile again. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, these will be available for you for a week. We'll be keeping your card here while you're consulting them."

She nodded. "Thank you," she said, looking at his name tag.  _Jon Snow._ She was sure she'd heard that name before. She glanced up to find him staring at her again and she realized she'd made no move to take her books or leave. She hurried to do so.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around then," Jon Snow commented. Why did he have to make it sound like he was looking forward to that? She blinked before she could get lost in his eyes again.  _You're pathetic,_ she told herself,  _all he did was smile and do his job._

Alayne could have taken her books into the reading room then, opening her laptop to read and work there. Instead she decided to sit down at one of the computers close to the reference desk. After all, she hadn't set up a password for the university's VPN yet and she didn't want to waste her battery. It made perfect sense to use the infrastrucure available to her. It would be much more convenient in case she needed to look up a reference.

There were about fifteen computers here, but she chose this one because the chair's cushion looked cleanest and because it was conveniently close to the door that led to the cafetaria. She definitely didn't take this seat because of the perfect view it offered her to the man sitting behind the reference desk. Still she caught her eyes drifting from her books and the relatively empty screen in front of her to the librarian called Jon Snow.

Unable to focus on the Prince of Dragonflies, she decided to start compiling a list of further reading. After saving five articles to her Visenya homedrive, she allowed herself another look, only to find him already staring at her this time. His eyes looked even darker from this distance. His lips quirked into a small smile before he turned away and disappeared through the door to the reference section. 

By the time she decided to return her books, Jon Snow was no longer manning the reference desk. In his place was a dull-looking man in his forties who asked her in a bored nasal voice whether she still needed the books. She told him she'd be back tomorrow and headed for the main entrance, chastising herself over the disappointment she felt.

The walk to the parking lot took almost longer than the drive back home, but she'd been planning to make a trip to the supermarket at the end of the main street. Leaving the library however she felt so unexptectedly tired she decided to head right home instead. She still had some leftovers, she could easily put it off until tomorrow morning. 

When she got out of the car, she felt a chill running down her spine.  _It's nothing,_ she told herself,  _it's just so quiet and dark here._ Still she picked up her pace. At the front door she paused, certain someone was watching her. Instinctively she turned around.  _Idiot, just go inside._ Her eyes were drawn to the alley across the street where a white animal the size of a bear was staring at her with glowing red eyes.  As it retreated back into the shadows, she realized in shock that it was a wolf.

For half a minute she stood frozen, her heart beating in her throat. With one last glance into the alley, she whirled around and didn't stop running until she closed the door to her apartment behind her. She pressed her back against the wood and slid down until she was slumped against the door.  _This place is messing with my mind,_ she told herself as soon as her breathing had slowed down. Direwolves had gone extinct over five-hundred years ago. It was impossible that one had just happened to show up in Hardhome.


End file.
